Hana

I drove back to what had once been my home with a divorce agreement in my bag.

The apartment was empty when I arrived.

The plants had dried up.

The air smelled of cigarettes.

I opened every window and let the stale smoke bleed out for two hours.

Then Victor came back.

With Hana.

And their son.

Hana moved softly, carefully, like a woman trained to never make hard sounds. She took the boy from Victor’s arms and went to the kitchen to prepare food.

Victor watched her go with a smile I recognized.

He used to look at me that way.

Then he turned to me.

His smile became cruel.

“With Hana, I feel like a real man.”

I said nothing.

“You are richer than her. More capable. More useful.” He leaned back. “But you can never give me the kind of happiness she gives me.”

I laughed.

“So that’s why you used my money to raise her and your son?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed.

“That money is compensation.”

“For what?”

“For three years of marriage to you.”

The room went very still.

“You should be grateful,” he said. “The only thing I respected about you was your money.”

There it was.

The truth, finally undressed.

I took the divorce agreement from my bag and threw it onto the table.

“Sign.”

He picked it up, flipped through, and snorted.

“You want me to leave with nothing?”

“That is still generous.”

“My parents hold the apartment. The savings are in family accounts. Everything under your name is already ours.”

“Then we do not divorce until the property is clear.”

Victor’s smile vanished.

I looked at him.

“You cheated. You transferred marital assets. You fabricated evidence to accuse me of infidelity.”

I leaned forward.

“I will make WeiTech pay for every cent.”

Victor stood so fast the chair scraped backward.

His hand lifted.

I did not move.

Before he could strike, the front door opened.

Marcus walked in.

He saw the torn papers.

Saw Victor’s raised hand.

Saw Hana frozen in the kitchen doorway.

My brother’s face darkened.

“What happened?”

Victor laughed bitterly.

“Your sister refuses to divorce. A hen that can’t lay eggs still wants property.”

I swallowed the sudden sting.

“Marcus,” I said, “he used all my savings to buy a school district apartment under his parents’ names.”

“For Hana’s child.”

Marcus turned to Victor.

Then he crossed the room and grabbed him by the collar.

“Sign.”

Victor struggled.

Marcus did not move.

“You leave with nothing.”

The boy in the kitchen began to cry.

Hana covered his mouth.

I looked away.

A child should not be born into this kind of ugliness.

But neither should I have been sacrificed to protect it.